Long before half-past seven o'clock on the holiday morning the children and their friends began to arrive. The committee of selection had given them to understand that they were to have breakfast before they came. At the back of the warehouse was a recess screened off by sacks hung over a line, in which were ample supplies of water, soap, and towels; and the girls were ready to do the washing, with their sleeves tucked up and aprons on to save their dresses. The process was this: we, the men, stood at the door and received the visitors, taking their names and otherwise identifying them, so that no deceit should be practised. Each child, as he established his right of entrance, was passed into the room, where, if he were not clean and tidy, he was made so, as far as possible, by the women. Some of them, I must admit, required washing badly; but when the work was done, and the children stood in lines along the benches, their bright eager faces and restless limbs formed a picture which dwelt vividly in my mind for a long time afterwards. Jacky Brown was very punctual, and, contrary to our expectation, very clean. We looked for some person answering to the description we had formed of Old Rookey, but we were not successful in finding him. Jacky had something to say to us. 'Old Rookey ses, he ses, you'll open yer eyes when yer sees me.' And Jacky pointed to his well-polished face and held out his clean hands. We thought we would improve the occasion. 'We are very pleased with you, Jacky. It's much nicer to be clean than dirty, isn't it?' But Jacky was dubious. 'It gets inter yer eyes, and 'urts,' he said. Soap was evidently a disagreeable novelty to him. Mrs. Silver and the girls were putting on their bonnets and getting ready for the start, when a serious innovation in our programme occurred. The guilty person was one of the most esteemed members of our own body. 'Children,' exclaimed Mr. Merrywhistle, suddenly stepping in front of them, 'have you had breakfast?' A mighty shout arose of 'No!' but whether those who gave evidence were witnesses of truth I dare not venture to say. 'Then you shall have some,' cried Mr. Merrywhistle, with a triumphant look at us; but there was conscious guilt in his gaze.